


Hallowed Halls of the House of Lalonde

by EzzyAlpha



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Angst by the truckload, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Incest, Lalonde pain, One-Sided Relationship, Post SBURB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:51:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyAlpha/pseuds/EzzyAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet Collection mostly focused on the Lalondes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes you write

Sometimes you write. It’s not very good. You take your pretty bubblegum pink notebook and you spill your heart on the page, you write words you’d never say.

They’re useless words made of broken dreams and the image of a woman you never knew.

Sometimes you cry alone at dawn, when Dirk still sleeps (because Dirk is the only one who could understand) and you write.

It’s not very good.

You scratch the paper, lightly at first, getting faster and faster, and when you realize what you’re doing, the notebook is ripped apart and the pages are spread on your floor. You shove it under your mattress along with all your feelings. Your bed is filled with writing that is simply not good.

You cry and you make martinis out of tears and words, with an olive of pain. You laugh at the sentence and you write it down. But then you read it once, twice, three times and you rip the page out, stuffing it next to wizard fanfiction.

You’ve destroyed countless pink notebooks.

Science comes easy to you, so do computers. It’s like instinct, you always know what to do, you devour textbooks and it’s all so perfect.

You try writing and it’s not very good.

It eats you inside.

Sometimes it’s 4 AM, you’re sitting at your computer. You press play and watch an interview that is centuries old.

Your fingernail traces the screen, over her jaw, her neck, every line on her face.

You love her but she’s cold and dead.

The woman who’s interviewing her makes a joke about how she’s unmarried. She stops, smirks, quirks a brow, delivers a verbal lashing. The interviewer backpedals and you cheer a little, but not really, because you’re crying.

Tears are streaming, pouring, hitting your pretty pink notebook.

The interviewer says their time is up. You cry out.

You press play again.

This happens far too much.

You lay on the ground amongst ripped pages, because you’re too drunk to get to your bed.

You open another bottle.

You’re in front of her now. Not her as you know her, her from another universe, your own age, and she smiles. She’s warm, she’s light.

She smiles, makes small talk.

Says she enjoys writing, asks about you.

You open your mouth once, twice, three times.

“Sometimes, but I’m not very good.”

She asks if she can read it, what you write about.

You say it’s not important.

And it’s not.

Because you’re not very good and you will never be good enough.


	2. Burn

Roxy takes a drag out of her cigarette and traces lazy circles on Rose's back with the tips of her fingers. The cigarette is burning too close to her fingers but she ignores it and continues to gaze upon her daughter/mother.

She wasn't aware it was possible to love someone this much.

Yet she does. It was like a punch to the gut when she first realized it. Like the cigarette that's burning her fingers was inside her heart, fire spreading from the core of her existence to the ends of her limbs. She's miserable and ecstatic but mostly miserable.

Rose sleeps innocently, unknowing of what's going through Roxy's mind. Roxy smiles faintly and runs her fingers through Rose's hair. She fell asleep with a book on her hands and falling off the couch. Roxy draped a blanket over her and stayed to watch her sleep because when she's sleeping there's no worries that she will see right through the lies and fake smiles.

Lies because how do you tell someone you love them when you're not supposed to?

Roxy jams the cigarette into the ashtray and continues to play with Rose's hair, staring at the wall.

She sees shapes and shadows and, were she drunk, she would see stories and people. But she doesn't drink anymore, trading one addiction for another.

She once told Rose she was quitting. Rose beamed and stopped her knitting to congratulate her, tell her how proud she is.

That didn't last long. Soon after she figured out the whole love shtick, the irreversible realization that yes, she wanted to fuck Rose, to take care of Rose, to marry Rose and move in with her and adopt a thousand cats, not that they were lacking in cats presently.

(Roxy lives in New York city, she can't stand the woods. She still takes the four hour drive to visit Rose every so often. She can't stand being away from her.)

Love is one of those things that either makes you extremely happy or extremely miserable or both.

Like mexican food.

Or whatever.

Roxy lights another cigarette by the window. She stares at Rose's reflection on the glass, marred by droplets of water. She was never quite fond of the rain, not like Rose is. Rain in the carapacian compounds meant lots of dead carapacians. There was simply not enough space for all and the cold was too much. Roxy tried to help them, to save as many as possible.

But she could never save everyone.

Rose once told her she was too good, too nice, too much for this cruel world and she'd waved her off, laughing.

"I just don't like to see people get hurt." she had said. Rose looked at her inquisitively, an eyebrow raised, but soon a smile spread through her face.

"You're greater than you believe."

If Roxy was so great, why did she keep fucking up.

There are faint burn marks on her fingers when she drops the cigarette into the ash tray, and she tries to get another but the pack of red Pall Malls is empty. It was full at the start of the week but visits up north have that side effect.

Sometimes Rose locks herself up in her room writing. Those are the hardest days, especially when Roxy is staying over. Roxy would bang on the door, ask her if she wants dinner or something, Rose wouldn't bother to open the door and face her, just mumble something about how she's on a roll. She doesn't want to talk to Roxy and Roxy doesn't want to force her, she wants her to be happy, so she shuts up and stays miserable and lonely in the living room, having the fifth cigarette of the day and blessing/cursing the lack of booze in the house.

There are hands firmly set on her shoulders now and Roxy looks up at Rose's reflection on the window.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was. Is something troubling you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

She grins a mockery of a smile.

"I'm perfectly fine. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Rose climbs the stairs to her bedroom in silence, only uttering a goodbye. Roxy stays on the couch, rolling the empty pack of cigarettes between her hands.

She's returning to New York tomorrow. She told Rose the woods are too lonely for her. But in truth she's always lonely when she's away from Rose. The pain of being near her is just too much after a while.


	3. Promises

"I dreamt you died." she says, voice a little shaky hiding tears about to show. You look over to her, cocking your head to the side. You're sitting in your bedroom, on the floor, your head leaning back on the mattress as you doodle a wizard fighting a horrorterror. Roxy is lying on the bed, blankets haphazardly thrown over herself as she watches the stars through the window. She once said she liked this, because she didn't have a sky view in her dimension. You wanted to ask more but she doesn't like talking about her home, so you don't push her.

You love her after all. Sometimes you doubt she loves you but after all these years, you know yourself enough to see it's all in your mind.

Three years in the game, three years after the game, 19 years of life but you feel so old.

You raise the can of energy drink you've been sipping and she whines.

"You know I hate that. It tastes like cough syrup. Plus it's bad for you."

"Suit yourself. How did I die?"

She visibly freezes.

You're majoring in Literature with a minor in Psychology. Roxy was doing Physics but she dropped out. You wonder what gods designed your new universe, so similar to yours but the furthest from Roxy's. Sometimes you think she'd be better off back in her home but you can't see yourself living without her and you know you're all she's got.

You think that might be unhealthy. You don't really care.

"School shooting."

"Very mundane."

"Yeah, it's nothing like you."

You've died before. You know what's it's like. The copper taste in your mouth lasted far longer than it should. At times you think you can still feel it.

You've died by stabbing, died by green fire burning you to ash, died when the universe remade itself. You scattered into light and the light reformed into you. When you were light, you couldn't see. Which you guess is rather poetic.

You think your last death was the most painful. Your very essence was torn and divided until you were nothing but particles of light. You were blind for the process, and the lack of corporal body didn't do much for your other senses. You remember you wanted to scream and you couldn't, and then the world formed beneath your feet and you found yourself in your home, Roxy sprawled on the floor crying in front of you.

You don't ask her what it was like to be Void. You don't think she'd appreciate it. You remember holding her as she sobbed into your shoulder. You wanted to check and see if Dave and John and Jade and the others made it to their homes, but Roxy needed you and, to be perfectly honest, you needed her too.

"What did you do when I died?"

"I cried mostly."

"You didn't avenge me?"

"I didn't think about it. I just found out and then collapsed in the middle of a grocery story crying."

"Boring."

"Sorry."

You look down at your drawing. The wizard has defeated the horrorterror and is now standing victorious on the corpse. If you drew this 6 years ago, it would be a very different scenario. You look back at Roxy. She's beautiful bathed in moonlight with stray tears down her cheeks. You read something once about telling someone they were beautiful when they cry was damaging. You're not sure of the veracity of the claim but you don't want to risk it so you stay quiet and continue to doodle.

It's quiet for a while but it's not the usual comfortable silence you two have. You get up and lie down next to Roxy, lying on top of the covers.

"You know I wouldn't just die like that, right? I am still, technically at least, a god. So are you."

"I know." she mutters, still looking at the window. You wipe her tears away with your thumb.

"I won't go anywhere. I promise." you say. Roxy shifts and turns her gaze to you. You smile.

"You promise." she repeats. She wraps her arms around you and you do the same.

"I dreamt you were dead more than once you know."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know."

"I won't die. I'll make sure of it. But you have to promise me you won't...Lose yourself."

You worry about Roxy. You worry about her a lot because she's 19 and she spends her days home, because she's died three times and didn't come back right, because this is not her world, it's yours.

"I promise." she says. You think it might be empty but for now you smile and kiss her.


	4. Dream

When your fingers pass by the freshly closed wound on your stomach, it smells of flesh and blood, much like what death smells of.

You breathe in quick spurts, your just now shattered sternum somehow whole. Being surprised in battle is never fun but you are safe now.

Dying is one hell of a way to sober up but you don’t mind it because in front of you is the teenage alternate of your mother.

“Hello.” You say.

“I thought you were dead.” She responds.

“I somewhat was.”

-

“I only go in the game to resurrect my mother.”

“I see.”

You are drawing horrorterrors in the sand with a stick. LOLAR shines in front of you, much like usual.

“You’re not her.”

“I know. For all it matters, you are not my mother either.”

You draw one munching happily on someone.

“Meeting her was my dream.”

You tap the stick you are holding on the sand and think. Shrugging, you return to your drawing.

“Find a new dream.”

You know she’s looking at you with tears in her eyes and quivering lips. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything at all.

You could use a drink but you promised her you wouldn’t.

-

“We won?” she asks.

“We won.” You respond.

She blinks a few times.

“We’re not getting the world we remember back.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Nor our parents.”

“Yes.”

“What now?”

You stop and stare at her.

“I don’t know.”

-

“Kanaya?”

“What about her?”

“You broke up?”

You stop, your head stuck inside the fridge. You stare at the picture of the cow in the milk package, trying to think of a response that won’t make her coddle you.

“It was a long way coming. It happens. We were teenagers after all.”

“But not anymore.”

You look over at her, leaning against the doorway.”

“I have an empty room.” She says.

“Thank you.”

-

Her skin is smoke and light under your hands. You don’t know if you’re doing anything right but the little moans and sighs in the back of her throat point to yes.

She bucks against you and holds on to your neck and asks between moans:

“Is this right?”

You close your eyes and rest your forehead in her shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

-

All you see is red.

You were children, then gods and you saved the world, but you are not immortal, not anymore, and you can die, you can die in a mugging in a city alley.

She’s lying on your lap and all you see is red.

“I never said it.”

“What?” you mutter.

“I love you.”

You choke on your own feelings and stare into her eyes. The color is fading away.

She blinks a few times.

“You were.”

“I was.” You say.

The words she said actually sink in.

“I was what?”

“You were my new dream.”

“Oh.”

A final sigh  right as the ambulance sirens can be heard.

-

John and Dave are the last to leave. Jade had to pull away Jake.

You sit in front of the newly raised gravestone, your fingers raking the ground, it smells of earth and musk, much like what death smells of.

“Are you okay?” John asks and Dave throws him a dirty look.

“I’m fine.”

Dave raises his eyebrows, his eyes looking far too big and young without the sunglasses.

“Are you sure? We can take you home…”

“No, thank you.”

John tugs on Dave’s sleeve and they walk away, Dave looking back one last time.

A moment of silence passes.

You take out a bottle of vodka and take a swing. Something breaks inside of you.


	5. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes through the window in speckled sunlight, into Rose’s ears in the form of birdsong, and the familiar pressure of someone who is just now going to bed. For Rose, for a moment, there is nothing but red light in her closed eyelids, the acrid taste in her mouth and Roxy’s arm snaking around her waist. The silence stretches itself, like an unwinding coil.  
> “You weren”t here.” 
> 
> (Originally posted on my tumblr)

Morning comes through the window in speckled sunlight, into Rose’s ears in the form of birdsong, and the familiar pressure of someone who is just now going to bed. For Rose, for a moment, there is nothing but red light in her closed eyelids, the acrid taste in her mouth and Roxy’s arm snaking around her waist. The silence stretches itself, like an unwinding coil.  
“You weren”t here.” The words escape Rose's lips before she can stop them. She doesn’t want to be that person, the one who is doubtful, not trusting her even as Roxy has proved, time and time again, that she can be trusted. Rose doesn’t want to be that person who interrogates their beloved at 11 am, a cozy 6 by their standards.

“I was out.”

“Obviously.”

“Sorry, baby.”

Rose grabs her wrist, throws her arm back with as much spite as she can. Roxy's eyebrows rise and she rolls to her back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Are you mad?”

“It’s too hot.”

“You’re mad.”

“You were out all night.”

There’s only silence again.

“Aren’t you even going to apologize?”

“No.”

Rose sighs and rolls her eyes.

“What’s her name?”

The sudden snort of laughter is the last thing Rose was expecting, even if she wasn't being entirely serious herself. She turns, lies on her back, glares at Roxy.

“That’s the first thing on your mind?”

“A guy, perhaps, then?"

The short spurts of laughter stop at once, Roxy’s eyebrows furrowing as she looks over Rose.

“Wait, you’re serious? Rose, fuck no. I wouldn’t.”

Rose raises her arms to cover her face, sighing quietly.

“I'm not.”

"But you're upset."

"You were out all night."

Roxy rolls away and jumps out of bed.

“Get up.”

“No. Why?”

“Let me show you.”

“Show me?”

“Why I was out.”

“Okay.”

The hallway floor is cold, way too cold under their bare feet. Roxy’s hand reaches for Rose’s, seeking some form of warmth, but Rose pulls away. There’s a sweet smell on the air, unrecognizable until she walks into the living room, and she stops in her tracks, looking over every single flower in the room, which takes quite a bit due to the sheer amount. Every surface in the room was covered in them.

“Roxy?” Her voice was shaking, even if her face stays unreadable, blank, devoid of any emotion.. For a moment she was afraid she was imagining things.

“They’re lavender roses.”

"I can see that."

Rose doesn’t notice Roxy is no longer by her side until she has to look back. Roxy is leaning against the doorway, smiling slightly.

“They’re for you.”

“That much is obvious.”

“I saw something online. Had to drive overnight to make sure I could- I’ll spare you the details, it’s boring. Enjoy your flowers, baby.”

“This is ridiculous, and I'm seriously doubting if your head is in the right place.”

Roxy laughs again, walks up behind Rose, pulling her in for a hug and resting her chin on top of her head.

“Now I’m apologizing. I should have said something, I worried you for no reason.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not Valentine’s day or-“

“I love you. I don’t need another reason.”

There’s a comfortable pause.

“Let’s go back to bed. I’m sure you need your rest.”

Rose’s fingers interlace with Roxy as she pulls her towards their room.

“Rest? That’s all I’m getting for the lovely present?”

“We can rest and then I can give you a lovely present of my own.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“This was still ridiculous, and I'm still not entirely sure if I'm happy about it, considering how we'll have to clean this up eventually  
.”  
“You like ridiculous.”

“No.” Rose says as she makes Roxy sit down on the bed, runs the tips of her fingers along her jaw. “I like it when you’re ridiculous.”


	6. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose’s eyes are unfocused and distant as if she’s trying to recall something that happened long, long ago. The tip of her sneakers scuff up the dirt. Roxy looks over her quietly, not daring to disturb her.
> 
> (Originally posted on my tumblr)

Rose’s eyes are unfocused and distant as if she’s trying to recall something that happened long, long ago. The tip of her sneakers scuff up the dirt. Roxy looks over her quietly, not daring to disturb her.

"You always said you were proud of me."

There’s a lingering pause. Roxy eyes Rose inquisitively.

"I mean." continues Rose "Not you. My mother."

Roxy nods, signifying she knew what she meant all along. Rose shuffles her feet, kicking up more dust and getting dirt on her blue ballet slippers. 

"She said it so often…It felt fake."

She looks up at Roxy, who nods again. She understands without any further explication. Rose lets her gaze drop once more.

"But you miss it."

She looks up at Roxy, who has let her hood down and pushed her bandanna up, Roxy who’s smiling but it doesn’t reach her eyes, watery, make up smudging at the corners. Rose goes quiet and looks back down.

There’s another long pause, long enough for Rose to imagine herself fleeing and never returning, but soon Roxy’s hands grasp her face and tilt her head up. Panic flares up inside Rose when she sees Roxy’s expression but falters as soon as her lips touch her forehead.

"I’m proud of you. I really am."


	7. Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is 6 and nothing, it's her birthday. She's still not allowed to go online alone, mostly plays games and messes around in MS Paint and Word. While she's writing what she thinks is the next best seller, a message pops up
> 
> happy birthday rose! i know im probably not there :( and im sorry but remember kid: i love you. youre the best daughter i could ever hope for.

Rose is 5 and a half and she's just gotten her first laptop. She's handled computers before of course, but she's brilliant and oh so smart, so Mom figures it's almost time, after all, that's her daughter. She's bound to be awesome with computers, Mom says to everyone who asks and everyone who doesn't. They nod and smile politely.

Rose is 6 and nothing, it's her birthday. She's still not allowed to go online alone, mostly plays games and messes around in MS Paint and Word. While she's writing what she thinks is the next best seller, a message pops up

happy birthday rose! i know im probably not there :( and im sorry but remember kid: i love you. youre the best daughter i could ever hope for.

Rose screams out of joy, and Mrs. Smith, the babysitter and upstairs neighboor, because they live in New York proper, in a small one bedroom apartment, and Mrs. Smith comes running because she thinks something terrible has happen.

Rose runs to Mom as soon as she comes home, she picks her up, spins her around, gives her a little present because this year isn't a big presents year, hell, even for the laptop she had to beg Dirk, because he's got money that she doesn't. Rose hugs her as tightly as possible.

"Are you magic?"

"Magic, programming, Same shit really...Honey, don't say shit, at least not in front of other people."

Rose is 10, perfect ten, and a message pops up in her laptop. She smiles, but there's no babysitter around. Mom isn't around either. She walks around the house, searching every nook and cranny for presents, but there aren't any. She falls asleep on  the couch. Mom comes home at 2, day after Rose's birthday officially, carries Rose to bed. Soon enough, she won't be able to carry her anymore, she's growing too fast even if she's the shortest girl in her class. When Rose wakes up, there's a small mountain of presents in her bed but Mom isn't home.

She cries for an hour.

Rose is 13. A message pops up on  her laptop. Rose grits her teeth, walks downstairs, Mom's sitting on the couch.

"I would say the birthday messages are getting old, after all, I am officially a teenager, even if you still treat me as a child. Besides, being able to hack into my laptop just like that is a severe breach of my privacy,..Mom?"

Mom isn't awake. She's passed out drunk, sitting up.

She cries for the rest of the day.

Rose is 18, freshman in college, with Dave and John and Jade. She's getting the highest grades, teachers praising her left and right. everyone that's not Dave and John and Jade things she's pretentious and a major douche. She doesn't care, at least not when anybody's around. She misses her mother but doesn't dare admit it. She's dating a fashion major.

Mom dies of liver family. Rose should've seen it coming but she didn't. Mom was 40. Rose says it's  not affecting her that much, after all they weren't that close. John and Dave and Jade don't believe her, neither does Kanaya or Karkat, or Terezi, or anyone who knows rose, because Rose isn't unemotional. She's a hurricane and a storm, hidden under a mask of ice that barely cracks under the strain of being unbeatable, in control, perfect.

She's crying every night.

Rose is 19, just 19, and Kanaya took her out for dinner. They have a great time. When she comes home, she leans against the doorway, collapses on the floor, her chest heaving as she cries without any tears falling. She gets up, barely, and drags herself to her computer, plopping down on the chair and staring blankly. The wine she’s had at dinner is affecting her, and she gets up only to open a bottle of whatever the hell she has in her kitchen, sitting down at her laptop again, silent tears now rolling down her cheeks without her noticing. She needs to get online to speak to Dave or John or Jade or even Kanaya, although the last thing she wanted was to ruin her evening, and a message pops up.

ey rose, i know youre not too happy bout me righrt now. especialoly since im wrriting thiz falt out drunk an d all. and i k now you told me to stop this yers ago. but i jst kept doing this becauze fuck it. i love you. even if you're disapiou disapointed as all fuck with me. im sory. i know i should get help b yt shit it wouldnt fix anything yknow. anyway point it. i love you rose. im sorry

She stares at the screen for a long time, and when she cries, it’s equal parts sorrow and joy.

 


	8. Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you even swim?"  
> Ah yes, the question everyone must ask once they notice her reluctance around water. Rose draws her legs out of the water, hugging her knees. Were it another time with another person, she might have lied.  
> "No."

"You're not going to swim?"

"No."

"Aw, come on, it was hard enough to convince you to come out here with a bikini on and now you won't even swim?"

"No."

Roxy is barely out of the water, inquisitive pink eyes staring up at Rose, who's sitting poolside but not daring to get in. Roxy blows air through her mouth, bubbles that float up and pop at the surface. Rose stares back, wonders what kind of luck (light) is needed so that you are forced to live with a younger version of your mother after a game of universal stakes. She's still not sure what she feels about it, and she certainly doesn't want to think about it.

"Can you even swim?"

Ah yes, the question everyone must ask once they notice her reluctance around water. Rose draws her legs out of the water, hugging her knees. Were it another time with another person, she might have lied.

"No."

That's one side of the issue anyway. What she doesn't tell Roxy is that she knows what drowning feels like; because going grimdark is like drowning, in ichor instead of water. It enters through your mouth, down your lungs, and you can't breathe.

Roxy scoffs.

"I can teach you. By the time I was born, the world was already, like, 95% water. Dirk would be better though, I didn't spend nearly as much time in water as him." but Dirk's not there of course, Rose loves her “father”, even if he's technically just her father's younger clone. But, hell, they understand each other.

Roxy's different. Rose doesn't understand her half the time. At the same time, they're polar opposites and kindred spirits, But they know each other, better than anyone else. Roxy is impulsive and overbearing and even smothering at times. She's not perfect by any means of the word. But Rose wouldn't trade her for the most perfect person in the world.

"It's alright." it's hard to resist the urge to say no again, but rose somehow contains herself. She looks over at the poolside,  reads the little indicator.

"The pool is deeper than I am tall."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

Rose is scared, Shes terrified. She doesn’t say it, of course, but there's a glint in Roxy's eyes that tells her she knows, Sometimes words aren't necessary for them, sometimes words arent enough.

"I'll hold on to you." Roxy says, voice quiet and calm. What she means is, I'll never let you go.

"And if you drop me?" murmurs Rose. If you looked carefully, you could see the beginnings of a shiver. Roxy doesn't need to look.

"I won't."

There's a thoughtful pause.

"I mean, i can carry you outside the water. Obviously, I can carry you in it."

Rose nods but doesn't move forward. Roxy swims up the short distance between them, opens her arms to her.

"Is it cold?"

"You'll get used to it."

"Okay."

Splash. The cold is unbearable and for a second, Rose thinks she's lost it again, that she'll come out grey and speaking in tongues, that Roxy will finally see that side of her, even if she already knows its there. Somewhere deep inside Rose is the doubt that Roxy could ever accept her truly and fully, as Rose accepts her.

And then she resurfaces, breathes hard and coughs up pool water. Roxy is holding onto her like she's the only thing anchoring her to life, and she might be. Her lips graze Rose's collarbone, and she’s finding it hard to breathe again. She looks down at Roxy, confused.

"Hey. Told you I'd never drop you."

Rose is grateful for the wetness in her face that disguises the twin tears that escape despite her efforts.

"Mom never bothered to teach me how to swim." words that didn't need to be said, because Roxy knew, but even so, she almost smiles at Rose's sincerity.

Roxy let's her drop further, the water is up to Rose's neck now, but she doesn't let go. She reached up and kisses her forehead, warmth spreading through Rose's body despite the chills that are running down her spine.

"Let's fix that, then."

Rose pauses then nods, but she doesn't bother to say anything. It's unnecessary.


End file.
